On this earth, there once flourished a noble family, radiant like a fully blossomed lotus. Its head was King Padma, illustrious and renowned, blessed with many sons and great wealth. In upholding boundaries, he was like the vast ocean; to his enemies, he shone like the sun, dispelling their darkness; to his beloveds, he was a gentle moon nourishing night-lotuses; to faults, he was a consuming fire, burning away the grass of imperfection. Among assemblies of the wise, he stood tall as the Meru mountain. He was the ocean from which the moon of fame arose, the lake where swans of noble virtues gathered, the sun that caused the lotus of the arts to bloom. He was the wind that scattered the ocean of enemies, the lion among elephants swollen with pride, beloved by all branches of knowledge, a mine of wondrous qualities. He was the Mandara mountain churning the sea of foes, the honey distilled from countless graces, the god of love armed with the flowers of good fortune. He was the breeze at the playful dance of the creeper of sport, the hero at the festival of daring, the moon to the night-blooming water-lily of nobility, the fire to the rare creeper of sportive delight. His wife, Lila, was fortunate and full of charm, endowed with every auspicious quality, appearing on earth like a newly blossomed lotus. She was adorned with all prosperity, sweet-spoken in her playfulness, gently radiant with joy, her smile rising like a second moon. Lila’s lotus-like face captivated the minds of Alaka’s denizens; her body was cool and her heart was as pure as the lotus’s core—a living embodiment of the lotus. Her smile shone with the radiance of jasmine clusters in the play of vines; she was full of flavor, her hands tender as new shoots, adorned with flowers—a goddess of fortune in human form. With a radiant body, pure and auspicious, bringing joy to the people, she entered the earth like the divine river Ganga, delighting in the company of swans. For King Padma, another pleasure arose, as if a new beloved: to serve and enjoy the flowers upon the earth, which grant all delight. Whenever he felt anxious, Lila was anxious; when he was joyful, she was joyful; when he was disturbed, she too was disturbed. Like a reflection, she was only fearful when he was angry. With this celestial maiden of the earth, King Padma—who had no other consort—tasted the sweetness of unfeigned love. Together, they delighted in gardens, forest thickets, dense groves of tamala trees, flower-canopied beds, and dwellings entwined with vines. They enjoyed flower-strewn palace beds, avenues adorned with blossoms, spring garden swings, and playful lotus ponds. They wandered through sandalwood groves, beneath the shade of santana trees, in homes of kadamba and neem, and within the hollows of paribhadra trees. They explored mountain caves and valleys, rooms with windows, riverbank terraces, and mansions atop elephants. In summer, they found respite within icy mansions, bowers entwined with creepers, golden palaces and trees, and walls adorned with pearls and rubies. Where jasmine and coral trees bloomed, their pollen fragrant, in springtime gardens where cuckoos sang in flocks, they strolled together. They walked on grounds covered with soft, radiant grasses of many precious gems, and beside waterfalls showering streams of sparkling droplets. They visited mountains bearing golden and ruby-studded rocks, dwellings of divine sages, and distant, meritorious hermitages. They played in blooming ponds of white lotuses, in smiling water-lilies, blossoming forest clearings, and full-bloom beds of blue lotuses. Their days were filled with riddles, stories, handfuls of letter-games, many kinds of board games and secret dice contests. They enjoyed dramas and tales, verses and intricate patterns of dots, regional dialects, and the customs of cities and villages. They adorned themselves with garlands, wreaths, and chains of flowers, various ornaments, playful graceful movements, and vessels of diverse delights. Together, they chewed tender betel leaves, areca nut, and camphor, shared playful embraces, and delighted in mounting swings. At home, they swung on flower-adorned swings, taking turns, and concealed their bodies among blossoming creepers. They journeyed by boat, chariot, elephant, horse, and camel, enjoyed playful sports in the water, and sprinkled each other with water. Their days were filled with dances, songs, artistic performances, vigorous tandava dances, music, conversations, and the playing of the lute and drum. In gardens, on riverbanks, among trees, along forest paths, within inner chambers and mansions, in all these places and in countless ways, they delighted together. Lila, raised in comfort and devoted to her husband, began to reflect, her mind inclined toward auspicious thoughts: “My husband, the lord of the world, is dearer to me than life itself; endowed with the splendor of youthful vigor—how might he become ageless and immortal?” She wondered, “With this husband, whose embrace lifts my swelling breasts, how might I, his beloved, freely delight with him in these flower-houses for hundreds of years?” She thought, “Just as by gradual effort in asceticism, recitation, and striving, one may become, like the moon among kings, ageless and deathless, I will ask the twice-born who are advanced in wisdom, asceticism, and learning: how is it that death does not occur for people?” Having duly honored the twice-born, she respectfully asked them again and again, “O Brahmins, how can immortality be attained?” The Brahmins replied, “O goddess, by all forms of asceticism and recitation, both the accomplished and the unaccomplished attain various results, but immortality is never obtained.” Hearing this from the mouths of the twice-born, Lila again reflected, quickly and with her own discernment, fearful of separation from her beloved. She resolved, “If, by fate, my husband should die before me, then, freed from all sorrow, I will peacefully abide in my own self.